An Umbrella
by winged requiem
Summary: He has his reasons for chasing after the ghosts of his sins in the rain. [RoyAi]


**An Umbrella**

Disclaimer: Nope, Full Metal Alchemist isn't mine.

A/N: English isn't my first language so I apologize for any possible mistakes. Feel free to point them out. Thank you very much for reading.

Spoilers: Manga Chapter 59.

--

_Because Hughes didn't live._

_Because now Elysia doesn't have a father, and Gracia is damn alone behind that lingering smile (as if a remnant from the happier years, from the lighter days, from the days with him)._

_Because Edward is so obsessed with a nearly unattainable goal, and there are no bridges left behind._

_Because Alphonse cannot remember what being human means, even if he never says so._

_Because Armstrong, in the end, was never fit for war, and still he remains here._

_Because Havoc will smile and light another cigarette, and blame his down-turning mouth on the bitter smoke, never on his spine._

_Because he can find a way to blame himself for everything._

These are the reasons why he has the right to be here now.

These are the reasons why he has to be wandering in the darkened streets in the rain, wondering if Scar is behind the next corner, wondering how it is to be blown up from inside, if you feel like being divided into stars.

He has his reasons.

He has his reasons to enjoy the way his clothes are clinging to his body, a reason to enjoy how cold he can feel, how the ice can slither into his bones and make them feel all brittle and cracked, a reason to enjoy the way his mind grows dim and there isn't much he can remember anymore, a reason to enjoy his sins are circling through him with each heartbeat, their steady rhythm an echo in his head.

"Sir." _He doesn't have a reason for ending up here, not one whose existence he'd admit, anyway._

She walks towards him, with the wind tugging at her coat, and she is holding an umbrella.

It's so ironic; what else could it be but an umbrella? What else could it be than she sheltering him?

"Come on, sir," she says and turns on her heels once she has reached him. He first decides against it, but finds himself from her doorstep. She shakes the water off the umbrella. She isn't looking at him, simply steps inside and waits for him to follow. He doesn't know why, but he does.

He notes Black Hayate sleeping in a chair, whimpering in his sleep. He faintly remembers that he has been here before, and his eyes are still dimmed, and it's raining.

Hawkeye gets him a towel, and doesn't say a word. Soon he's sitting by the kitchen table and staring at the fume rising from the white china cup.

"What were you doing out there, sir?" she asks and they both know she knows.

"Walking," he replies. He doesn't raise his gaze as he adds, "You didn't really need to let me here, Hawkeye."

"I know," she nods. There's a pause, she sips her tea. "Why do you think I did? Why do you think I've followed you these years, sir?"

His head shoots up. Her question adds another needle to his heart. "I really don't know, Hawkeye. I really don't."

"Because I love you," she says, and it's as simple as that. Not a great declaration of love, and she isn't blushing and isn't scared of this being against the fraternization rules, because it's that simple. "It's you I'm loyal to, and not the state. If it was just for the army, I could be anywhere. And I don't like how much you are able to forget, sir."

It's the first time Colonel Roy Mustang realizes his First Lieutenant loves him. It's not that he could never have guessed, he has known her for so long after all. _It's almost twenty years, _he notes slowly, _almost twenty years since we first met. I haven't spent as much time with anyone else in this world._

He looks at her from beneath his own storm clouds, and he's almost crushed under the weight of all these sins. "Everyone I care about dies or loses everything important to them. I'm sick of it."

"You don't care about me?" Her eyes meet his, and her gaze is solemn and calm. It would be easier if she was sad or hurt, begging for attention, but of course she isn't.

"What?"

"You said _everyone_ you care about. I'm here."

He inhales sharply and finally sees her for the first time.

Hawkeye loves him, and he cares about her. He cares about her goddamn much, he realizes now, too much almost.

"Something will…"

"It's been over ten years," she cuts him off. "Over ten years, sir. And yes, it's likely something will eventually happen. But I'm here, sir. I will be."

"I don't dare to love you."

She nods, closing her eyes softly, "I know, sir."

She stands up to pour them some more tea. He grasps her wrist before she has the time to. They look at each other. They look at each other and remember two kids, both with fierce eyes, looking at each other, remember two young soldiers on a burning desert, remember everything, everything, everything.

"But I—" he begins and tries to fumble for a word but fails. "Still…"

She leans to him, swiftly, and kisses him. (And still, nothing will change; they'll remain as they were.)

_Because she does know._

_Because she will remain, and when she'll die it will be for him._

_Because when Hughes died, she was there, silent and gentle, when it rained._

_Because when Gracia held crying Elysia in her arms, she stood beside her Colonel, a step away from him, and he wasn't alone to see this._

_Because when Edward bursts in, restless, she is right there._

_Because when the Colonel sees Alphonse's quiet despair, his First Lieutenant sees it as well, and knows, knows, knows._

_Because she too knows Armstrong isn't fit for war, and can't decide which is sadder; that he isn't or that they are._

_Because she has no problem reading the words which Havoc hides in a cloud of smoke._

_Because she knows he finds a way to blame himself for everything, and she is there to hold an umbrella._

_Because they love each other, even if they don't dare._

--

fin.


End file.
